


Jim Moriarty Oneshots

by sunfirestrike



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Just a bunch of oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfirestrike/pseuds/sunfirestrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bunch of oneshots involving everyone's favorite consulting criminal!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Took Care of Him

You wrapped the blanket tighter around your form, trying to keep from shaking. Said blanket was covering you from head to toe, leaving only your face to be seen in the blue light of the TV. Some soap opera was on, you just couldn’t connect with the over dramatic characters, and there, for lack of a better word, dramatic lives. That seemed to put your love life to shame with how often people kept falling into each others bed. You weren’t really watching it, it was just something you put on to try and keep your mind of him.

A few more tears slipped out of your already red and puffy eyes. You reached for the tissues on the other side of you, sick of crying over someone who was not worth the beauty of your tears. He had been cheating, for two of the three goddamn years you put into that relationship. The woman who had been in his bed with him hadn’t known about your relationship, and you both ended up slapping him, you more than once. You ended up getting her number to call her if you ever wanted to hang out. You looked down at the scandalously large bowl of ice cream in your lap. You had gone to the store right after you found out, and picked up everything that sounded good.

You looked up when you heard keys jingle, and the lock turn. Jim was here. If possible, you sunk further into the blanket, trying to make yourself smaller. You had told Jim what had happened when you got home. Jim had always said he wasn’t the right person for you, so you weren’t exactly looking forward to his gloating.

Surprisingly he was rather sorrowful looking when he opened your bedroom door and found you covered in blankets, with tear tracks covering your puffed up face. He sighed as he sits down next to you, and starts rubbing your back in soothing circles. You lean your head on his shoulder a few sniffles coming from you, as your bottom lip quivers to keep from crying.

“There, there,” he tries to comfort you, placing your head under his chin, “I took care of him.”


	2. Honey-Eyed Devil

You slunk through the dark museum, there was something eerie about a place that was usually bustling with life, covered in a blanket of darkness. You knew they were here, watching you, waiting for your next move, waiting to kill you with a bullet in between your eyes. After all, that’s what you would be doing if you still worked for him. You were his best sniper, the only one who was even close to your caliber was Moran, but he was needed as Jim’s body guard. So, you lead his team of snipers. You left because of his style, sure you were down for killing bad people who had done bad things. But killing innocents was not your fashion taste, if you will. You believed that there were good people in the world, but he saw only the darkness in the world. And he was at the center of it.

You could hear the shouts of Sherlock and John, they were on the verge of finding something, you knew it. You had split up to cover more ground. John had protested against you going alone, but Sherlock knew you could handle yourself. You were one of the best assassins in the world.

Eyes are following you through a scope, you know it. That feeling of something creeping up your back tells you that there are presences that have yet to make themselves known to you.

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

The bullet shrieks through the air, piercing you in the thigh, having just enough time to dodge, as you heard the shattering glass of the window. A scream leaves your lips, more from shock than pain. Your neck snaps up from where the shot had rung out, spotting just the tip of the rifle barrel pointed at your head.

Another shot rings out, and you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to face Death just yet in your life, for you were sure the reaper would be dragging you kicking and screaming to Hell.

A body slumps forward, and comes crashing through the skylight of the museum. Your eyes shoot open. A shocked gasp parting your lips. The body on the ground is holding a rifle. You look up, finding the man who had made you feel like you were an angel that had fallen from grace holding a smoking gun in his hand. He looks at you, his eyes daring you to challenge his motives for sparing you. Daring you to fall for him again. To return to that agony.

Instead, you run, Or rather hobble away. Away from the demon who stole your grace, and into the arms of the angels with their songs that sung of redemption that you had had missed.

You would be sure to keep one eye open for the honey-eyed Devil named Moriarty.

For demons had a tendency to return.


	3. Take Good Care of Her

Something was off with you lately. Sherlock had noticed, hell even John was getting suspicious. It wasn’t until you wore a turtle neck did Sherlock figure it out. You despised having things up around your neck, said it made you feel like you were suffocating. You were hiding something, most likely marks on your neck from the person you were dating that you didn’t want them to know about.

Why through? Why didn’t you want your brother to know who you were dating? Then it donned on him, it was someone he knew. Lestrade? No, he didn’t much like the Holmes family, found you only slightly less annoying than himself. This made him smirk. Molly? No, last time he checked you didn’t take a romantic interest in girls. Oh, God forbid, not Anderson! No. He threw that possibility right out. You wouldn’t go out with his greatest enemy-

Oh.

So that’s why you didn’t want him to find out.

The months pass and Moriarty’s plan begins to become clear. So here he stands on the rooftop of a building, meeting his sister’s boyfriend. He stands on the ledge, having already said his goodbyes to you and John, before turning to Moriarty. For once his face is grim, and he says,

“Take good care of (Y/N), Moriarty. She will need you.” He takes the plunge, unaware of the gunshot Jim had just placed in his brain.

You watch from the ground as your world comes crashing down.


End file.
